


Outlines

by kim_onka



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Drabble Collection, Family, Family Drama, Gen, and problems with his family, but the focus is not on his treachery etc, more on his life surprisingly enough, you know how it goes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-14 00:15:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9148366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kim_onka/pseuds/kim_onka
Summary: Written for Maeglin Week on tumblr, a set of seven drabbles about - you guessed it - the Prince of Gondolin.





	

_i. unspoken_

.

'I share your grief, sister-son,' King Turgon says, hands on Lómion's shoulders, solemn eyes on his face. 'Speak to me.'

Sharp eyes stare back.

Eöl forbade him from meeting his kin and he answered not.

Splendours of Gondolin he saw and spoke not, amazed at bliss unimaginable.

His father he watched choose death for him as faithless, his mother life as beloved, and said naught.

Silence had he for Eöl, Aredhel's slayer, cast over Caragdûr; silent were his farewells to both mother and father.

And only silence has he now, his heart hardened and cold, the orphaned Child of Twilight.

* * *

 

_ii. halved_

_._

In shadows under the tallest trees he is born, and knows not sunlight save from tales.

His father leads him far and wide under the stars and the sickle moon; his mother talks wistfully of lands far away and of the warm light of Anar.

His father teaches him craft and takes him to the halls of the Naugrim; his mother speaks of the Noldor, of their might and valour and of what they wrought.

( _You are of my son, of the house of E_ _ö_ _l_ _; you are a Noldo, a prince of Finw_ _ë_ _'s line._ )

Maeglin Lómion stands in between, divided.

* * *

  _iii. prowess_

_._

Maeglin's hands are able, his eyes keen, his mind ever eager; much has he learnt from his father, much from the Naugrim; much has he to learn from the Gondolindrim – and teach in return.

This is the gift he offers the White City: of knowledge and skill gained in shadows, from one who despised it.

This is the one thing he has to give this city of wonders, and he gives it gladly.

(Eöl's wrathful eyes; _betrayal._ )

( _What you have from me you g_ _rant_ _them;_ _beware, for_ _they take all and more._ )

This is the legacy he will not renounce.

* * *

  _iv. sour_

_._

He must have been happy once, he thinks.

Cheerfully playing with forest animals in the familiar shadows of Nan Elmoth, was he not happy?

Studiously exploring the marvels of the Dwarves' work and catching a gleam of pride in Eöl's eyes, was he not happy?

Eagerly listening to the stories of the valour of Noldorin princes and that he was one of them, was he not happy?

(Maeglin does not know.)

When he first rode out of the forest and into sunlight, in pursuit of freedom and the White City – then, he was happy.

(But that happiness soon turned bitter.)

* * *

  _v. attachments_

_._

Ties around him, binding.

To Eöl his father, whose acceptance he sought and whose will he rejected; if only he could hate him.

To Aredhel his mother, who was his light and who took death in his stead; if only he could mourn her.

To Turgon his uncle, who welcomed him warmly and raised him to highest honours; if only he could love him.

To Idril his cousin (his beloved), whom he desired upon first sight and who detested him; if only he could – be free of her (have her) –

(Maeglin knows not.)

(Save that all the ties as askew.)

* * *

  _vi. covert_

_._

Maeglin smiles.

(He has ever been good at concealing, especially pain.)

Around him, Gondolin lives, oblivious.

(The memory of torment is alive in his mind, all the same.)

Gondolin, the city of wonders he had loved before he saw it, which opened its arms to him only to deny him its greatest wonder – too long has his heart suffered within these walls for him to let himself be destroyed on their behalf.

(They will not have another sacrifice.)

They do not suspect the new power he holds over them – of knowledge, of anticipation.

(He will have his desired.)

Maeglin smiles.

* * *

  _vii. fall_

_._

Disembodiment is strangely similar to falling: disorienting, with no hold to grasp.

(Falling.)

Eöl's curse returns to him, and he perceives his fate was ever shaped by the father he so hoped to reject; and here they lie together, they who died pursuing those who would not have them.

(He failed.)

(He would always have failed.)

(He understands it at last.)

The summons come; he would not have Morgoth hold his naked spirit as he held his body.

So it is in Halls of Mandos he chooses to abide, with little hope for the rest he never found in life.


End file.
